Looking past Beta Kieran, I spot her clinging to a statue of herself at the bottom of the stairs. 

Blonde hair falls in careless waves, green eyes sharp, calculating, measuring. She sways as she moves toward Trey, like a predator unaware she's being watched. I can't help but recall Liora's reaction yesterday. When I'd asked Trey about his mate, her whole body had stiffened, taut with fear.

 She was scared of this woman. Something about her made Liora flinch, and I wanted answers.

"Take her, Alpha Kael. I'm sure she'll serve you as well as she serves us." Her shrill voice cuts through me like glass. "Look at the pathetic thing she's going to pass out." The blonde laughs, cruel and hollow.

"You don't get to speak about her like that," I snap, glaring. "She's not your toy, not your slave. Alpha Trey, I suggest you keep your mate in line. I won't tolerate any more disobedience."

"DISOBEDIENCE!" the woman screeches as Liora hits the floor. "How dare you! If anyone's disobedient, it's that rat in the corner!" Rat? I growl silently, teeth clenched. Who the hell is she calling a rat?

"You should familiarize yourself with our agreement," I snap. "Seems your mate didn't tell you everything." I wave Eric forward. From under his arm, he pulls a thick wad of paper the contract I'd drawn up.

"All of this for your help?" His mate's eyes widen.

"I don't do half-baked contracts." I shove the paper into Trey's chest. "Office. Now."

Trey leads, his mate clutching him, Beta following behind. My men trail, while I hang back, watching Liora. "You're more than welcome to join us you're part of this deal. Or... my car is outside. You can pack and wait."

She murmurs, eyes low. "Those are my only options?"

"For now. Honestly? Sit with us. Nothing will irritate your brother's mate more." Her blue eyes stay fixed downward, fingers clutching her bag like it's life itself. The closer I get, the clearer it is: she's fragile, heart slow, fighting to stay alive.

"So, what will it be?" I ask.

"I... I..." Her head tilts between the door and the office. "I... I guess the office."

"Good choice." I offer my hand. She ignores it. 

Wobbly, but upright, following her. I catch the glares she earns from Trey and the others as she steps into the office.

"Take a seat," I whisper, brushing her lower back. 

She freezes, rigid, eyes darting.

"Sit!" I repeat, louder. "She doesn't have that privilege here!"

The blonde sneers, amused. "Sitting isn't a privilege."

I growl, scanning for bruises, evidence. None visible. Small relief. Aero paces in my head. He wants her out of this chaos as much as I do. The blonde recoils, shocked I spoke.

"And I suggest," I glare at Trey, "you tell your mate to keep her mouth shut or I'll do it for you."

Alpha Kael interrupts, calm, commanding: "You want my help, yes?" The room seethes. No one likes being told what to do. But here, they are. I point to the empty chair between Jenson and Eric.

 She sits, hesitantly.

"Let's finish this," Trey snaps. "The sooner she's gone, the better."

"You should read the contract," I mutter.

'Agreed,' Eric murmurs. They sign without reading, throwing the papers back. "Done," Trey mutters.

"Good. Get her out." His mate screeches in protest.

If I had my way, I'd take Liora now and leave the idiots behind. But the contract is ironclad they can't reclaim her. I rise, hand extended.

"Come. We're leaving before I lose my temper."

Her fingers slip into mine. Her other hand clutches her bag to her chest. She doesn't glance back, confirming my suspicion: she hates them as much as they hate her. At the open door, she hesitates, staring at the limo. "Come." Eric and Jenson flank her, curious, alert. She looks like a deer in headlights tiny, frail. Skin and bone. My hands trace the outline of every rib. Sickening. 

She should be strong, powerful, Alpha blood surging through her veins. Her face scrunches as I measure her. Not fear. Pain. She hides it beneath a baggy maid's dress.

"I know you want to say something. Just say it. 

I'm not interested in Trey's garbage. Speak freely. Are you injured?"

"No." Lies. I can feel it. A lock of black hair slips from the band meant to hold it. She's protective, starved, hardened. He'll pay for what he did.

"You must speak, Liora. When I mark you, I'll know what you feel."

"Mark me?" Her eyes widen, disbelief written across her face.

"Yes. I will mark you." She's shocked. Pink lips parting, hesitant, cautious. I thought she knew

that was why she'd submitted so easily. My Beta questioned me, uncertain. Her scent is strange... intoxicating. My wolf Aero hungers for her too, frustrated I didn't bring her yesterday.

"You... brought this to mark me?" She steps back toward the kitchen island, wincing, then forcing composure. If Trey had read the contract, he'd know: she is my bride, not a slave. Any interference, she becomes ours mine. I never bought her. Liora was always destined to be mine.

"I'm a murderer," she whispers. "Why would someone like you want me as a bride?"

Aero growls, cutting through my thoughts. Blood. 

Vulnerability. Power.

I glance down. Baggy dress, a new blood stain where I touched her. "Injured?" I demand. Barely touched her.

"Nothing. A cut. I knocked it. It opens. I forget it's there." Forget? Impossible. Aero panics. Less than two hours, already injured. No healing. Binding. 

We must reverse it soon.

"Show me."

"Fine," she mutters.

"Not optional. If you refuse, I will see for myself."

Her heart skips. "Can we go somewhere private?"

"Private?" I scoff. Wolf logic. She keeps focus slightly averted, afraid of my gaze.

"Office," Aero mutters.

"Perfect," I snap, motioning toward the door. She follows. The scent of blood intensifies. Already worse than a simple cut. Inside, I drop the blinds. 

Sunlight retreats. Hesitant, she begins unfastening her dress... only near the large bloodstain. Everything else remains hidden. Four inch wound, infected, painful.

"See? It's fine," she whispers.

"Stop saying that." I grab her hands, spotting more bruises. "Let's check the rest." No options. Fingers tear buttons. Sports bra, panties worn. Bruises everywhere. Whip scars. Hip bones, ribs protruding. Turning her, pulling the dress down her back... nothing above chest, nothing below thighs.

 Arms bare. Only one reason: hide abuse, hide appearances. Guests cannot see. Planned for months. She fumbles, pulling dress tight, thin frame revealed.

"You need to have a doctor check that."

"It's... it always heals. Eventually." Liora's voice fades when she notices the anger tightening across my face. My eyes travel over the bruises littering her arms, the fading marks around her throat, the wound on her stomach she's trying to hide with that thin dress. My jaw tightens. "Did Trey do this?" I mutter through clenched teeth, gesturing toward her injuries. Her blue eyes drop instantly. "Liora?" Silence. "Cassius then? That idiot that trails behind Trey like a shadow? Or the other two mutts with him?" She pulls the dress tighter around herself and gives a small nod. Her fingers brush her cheek, wiping away a tear that slips out before she can stop it. "Anyone else?" I press.

"The pack," she whispers so quietly it's almost swallowed by the room. A low growl rumbles in my chest. I'm going to kill them all, Aero snarls inside my head. He'll have to get in line. "Because of what they think you did to your parents?" I ask. She nods again. "I don't believe you were responsible." That makes her finally look up. Confusion twists across her face as her brows pull together.

"Because of... Blood of Wolfsbane?" she murmurs. I blink. "Liora." "I... I don't know what Blood of Wolfsbane is," she says quietly. I frown. "Your brother said you knew plants. Said you could tell the difference between them."

"I... I can't remember everything," she admits, her voice barely above a breath. "Not properly." I rub a hand over my jaw. "Blood of Wolfsbane is wolfsbane fed with our blood. The leaves turn red. It's rare and dangerous. Packs don't grow it openly because of what it can do." I pause, watching her reaction.

"No child would know what it is unless someone taught them." Her eyes drop again. "Your brother's story doesn't add up," I mutter. "Someone lied." "Oh." The small word leaves her lips like she doesn't know what else to say. I push myself off the desk, staring down at her. "I won't stop until I find out who really did this to you, Liora," I tell her quietly, my crimson eyes narrowing. "And when I do, they'll pay for every second of suffering you endured." She stays silent, but I can see the thoughts racing behind her eyes.

"Right now though," I add, gesturing toward her stomach, "you need to see the pack doctor before that infection spreads." She presses her lips together and nods. "Come," I say, turning toward the door. "I'll show you our bedroom. You can shower first." She freezes instantly. I glance back over my shoulder. "Our bedroom?" she repeats softly like she isn't sure she heard me correctly.

Yes. Our.

The realization clearly hits her all at once. Her shoulders tense, a shiver running down her spine. She probably thinks I expect sex whenever I want because she's my contract bride. I pretend not to notice. Adjusting her dress to cover herself, she steps into the hallway behind me. The corridors are quiet, empty. Our footsteps echo softly against the polished floors. I point out a few rooms as we walk. "Training room. Library. Council room."

But honestly, I'm more focused on getting her cleaned up before that wound gets worse. When we reach my bedroom, she stops again. The room is massive, windows stretching from floor to ceiling, letting in pale light. The bed sits against the far wall, surrounded by thin drapes hanging from the ceiling and tied back loosely at each post. Her gaze drifts toward the bathroom area and she stiffens. The bath and shower sit openly within the room itself. Only the toilet is hidden behind a small door. No privacy. Not that I care. I step closer, leaning slightly toward her ear and she jumps when my breath brushes her skin.

"You don't need to be afraid," I murmur. Even if I couldn't smell another male on her, I'd still feel the shift in her emotions through the bond forming between us. Crossing the room, I pull open the glass shower door and turn the water on. Steam begins to fog the glass almost instantly. When I turn back, she's still standing exactly where I left her, staring like she's waiting for the trap to spring. I tilt her chin up with two fingers. "Hey," I say quietly. "It's just you and me." Her eyes widen slightly.

I pull my phone from my pocket and set an alarm before placing it on the bedside table. "Ten minutes," I tell her. "I'll come back then with clothes for you. Stay in the towel until I return. Understand?" She nods. No words. Just that small, nervous nod again. I move toward the door but pause with my hand resting on the knob. Glancing back at her, I sigh softly. "I really wish you'd talk more, Liora." Then I leave her alone. The moment the door closes, she rushes for the shower like she's escaping into another world. Maybe for her, it is. Warm water pours over her body as she scrubs away dirt and sweat. The scent of soap fills the room as she washes her hair, her skin, everything like she's trying to erase years of misery. The wound on her stomach burns under the hot water, but she doesn't stop. A simple shower must feel like heaven compared to whatever she had before.

Minutes pass. I return and clear my throat loudly. She freezes behind the fogged glass. "Liora," I call out. "The alarm went off five minutes ago." Silence. "Are you done?" "Coming," she mutters quickly. The water shuts off and a towel wraps tightly around her body before she steps out. Her torn dress, old underwear, and worn sandals are gone from the floor. I'm sitting at the edge of the bed holding folded clothes and a pair of trainers.

"It's not much," I say, handing them over. "We don't exactly have anyone with a waist as small as yours." The outfit is simple navy joggers and a matching sweatshirt. "And the underwear will arrive tomorrow morning," I add casually. "You'll have to survive without it tonight." I raise an eyebrow as she dresses quickly. Joggers first. Sweatshirt second. Then the towel drops and she tosses it aside without hesitation. No teasing, no flirting, no attempt to impress me. She refuses to even look at me. Interesting. Most women would be parading around naked right now if they were alone in my bedroom. Liora just looks like she wants to disappear.

"Let's go," I say, standing. This time she follows immediately. The pack hospital isn't far from the main house. The doctor working tonight is young, nothing like the ancient coward from her old pack. She looks up when we walk in, quickly tying her dark hair into a bun. "Raven," I say, gesturing to the girl beside me. "This is Liora." Liora keeps her eyes lowered.

"Alpha Dane," Raven greets with a friendly smile before glancing curiously at Liora. "What seems to be the problem... aside from the strange scent she brought with her?" The comment isn't cruel. Just curious.

"She'll tell you herself when she finds her tongue," I reply dryly.

"I have a wound," Liora whispers finally. Raven's brows knit together. "And you're not healing?"

"I... don't have my wolf." The words sound like a confession. Like shame.

"Her wolf was bound when she was a child," I explain calmly. "That's why her scent is strange. The wolf is still there... locked away and waiting to be freed." Liora's eyes flicker up at me in shock. She'd always believed her wolf was gone. Not trapped. Raven stares at her for a moment, clearly fascinated. "Wow... okay," she says softly before grabbing Liora's hand. "Come with me. Let's take a look at that wound of yours."

She leads me into a small, sterile room and motions for me to lie down. I hesitate, every instinct screaming not to. The wound is exposed just enough for her to see as I lift my sweatshirt.

Raven's eyes widen instantly, a flash of rage sparking across her sharp features as she takes in the deep bruising, the angry infection spreading across my skin. She presses around it with precision, careful, like she's handling something fragile yet dangerous. "How long has this been?" Her voice is calm but edged with steel. "A few days... maybe..." I mutter, uncertain. Each beating had blurred into the next. Days had no meaning when pain dominated them. Any day without a new mark had been a rare victory. Raven shakes her head sharply. "No. This has been festering for at least a week. The infection didn't just appear overnight. You need to be honest, Neah. Who did this?" I shrink into myself, a habit drilled into me over years of abuse. "I... I don't know," I whisper, my voice almost swallowed by the room. Alpha kael is there, looming without words, radiating an intensity that's impossible to ignore. His anger isn't loud, it doesn't roar. It pulses, silent but lethal. I flinch under its weight.

"LARA!" His voice rumbles through the room, deep, commanding, shaking my core. Punishment doesn't need hands; it lives in his tone, in the sheer presence of him. My stomach knots, old fears resurfacing, memories of a life where anger always brought pain. I close my eyes, too afraid to meet his gaze. Memories of Alpha Trey's punishments flash involuntarily the beatings, the degradation, the feeling that my existence was a problem. Those lessons run deep. This is worse somehow, being seen, revealed in a pack hospital that isn't mine, a room full of strangers who might not care if I survived. "Heal her!" Alpha Kael barks after a long pause, then storms from the room, pulling a phone from his pocket and pacing as he speaks. The air is thick with tension, every second stretching unbearably. "You'll have to forgive my brother. His temper is... short," Raven mutters, inspecting my wound carefully. "He hates seeing this, hates not knowing what's been done to you." "My brother?" I whisper, voice trembling slightly. I hadn't expected any family discussion in all this chaos. "Yes. And I'm guessing he never mentioned Jenson?" she adds with a wry smile. "Gamma of the family. He's been involved long before this day."

I shake my head, confused, piecing together fragments of what I know or think I know about the Moonshine Pack and the chaos that surrounds me.

"Gamma?" I murmur. A term that feels foreign, powerful, heavy. Raven chuckles lightly, distracted from the wound for a second. "Yes. Don't worry, the terms confuse everyone at first. Alpha kael is... complicated. Protective, controlling, effective.

You'll see it in action soon enough." She grabs a small jar of cream from the cabinet, reading off instructions. "Three times a day. Should start clearing the infection. If not, you'll come back and we'll try something stronger. Your brother waits out front; I'm sure he wants to speak with you after this." "Thanks," I whisper, barely meeting her gaze as I take the jar. The label is foreign to me. I can't read it, and the unfamiliarity makes me feel... small.

Not like the Alpha kael looming nearby, not like the monsters who made me this way, but small in the ordinary, mundane way of needing help. I hurry out to find Alpha kael pacing near the front. Phone forgotten, hands clasped behind him, eyes sharp. I show him the cream, and without comment, he takes it, flips open the lid, and applies it to the wound with his rough, precise hands. The contact sends a jolt through me. Not fear. Not pain.

Something else entirely unexpected, confusing.

"Don't lie to me," he says low and deliberate, voice like steel wrapped in velvet. "If you can't remember something, tell me. I don't guess, Neah. Ever." I nod, swallowing hard. I can barely form words under the weight of his stare. One hand steadies me, holding me firm, the other works the cream in carefully. It's... tender. Foreign. Dangerous in its unfamiliarity.

"You're afraid," he states again, eyes locked on mine. "Everyone is," I whisper, voice barely audible, my gaze dropping. "You're stronger than most," I add, compelled despite myself. "You've killed, conquered, absorbed. People fear you. It would be stupid not to fear you." He tilts his head, smirk tugging at his lips. "That's not what I mean," he says simply. "I mean me." I can't answer, can't find words that won't betray the careful armor I've built around myself. My hands curl into fists at my sides.

My chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven breaths. "You don't need to speak yet," he murmurs, hand brushing lightly over my back, guiding me, steadying me. "I'll take my time learning you, understanding you. No one like you should ever feel invisible, unworthy, or unprotected. You are not them, and you never will be. You don't need to fear me, Lara. Only trust. And trust is earned." I watch him, eyes flitting everywhere but his. The clock. The walls. Anything. I don't trust myself to meet his gaze. By nightfall, I haven't spoken first. Conversations end in nods or shakes of the head, brief, calculated, protective gestures that say nothing but shield everything.

I am almost unreadable, and he seems to enjoy it, studying, testing, teasing, pushing gently against boundaries without overstepping. "You need sleep," he finally mutters, guiding me toward the stairs. No Wolf tonight, no pack run for me. My legs ache, my mind buzzes, yet there's a strange calm in the order he brings, in the authority he wields effortlessly. Entering the bedroom, he applies the cream one last time, carefully, deliberately. I hold my breath, not trusting any moment. "Goodnight," he murmurs, brushing a kiss across my cheek. I flinch instinctively but stay rooted, unable to move, unable to look away. "You're leaving?" I whisper.

"Full moon tonight. Pack run. I'll be back before you even notice I'm gone. Sleep while you can," he says, eyes scanning me like a predator, a guardian, an enigma. "Pack run?" My brow furrows. "You'll see. Moonshine doesn't leave anyone behind. Everyone participates. Everyone contributes. Everyone survives... or doesn't." His tone is calm, but I feel the weight of it, the silent threat beneath the words. A world I stepped into willingly, yet unknowingly.